


This is a Stickup

by glorious_spoon



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: Peggy and Rose are caught up in a bank robbery, and it doesn't go well. For the robbers.





	This is a Stickup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/gifts).



> Just a silly little bit of a treat that I wrote at the last minute--I hope you enjoy!

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Peggy said, eyeing the nearest of the armed robbers. He looked young. Even though there wasn’t much of his face visible under his mask, the way he held his gun would have been enough to tell her that he was new at this. It ought to have been encouraging— at least they weren’t dealing with real professionals here— but she just felt vaguely insulted instead.

“Tell me about it,” Rose muttered. She casually pushed her handbag under the nearest counter with the heel of her shoe. Peggy glanced down without moving her head, caught the glint of metal in its contents. Good. Trust Rose to have a weapon handy. “I have a date tonight, and I was already running late. Completely ridiculous.”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, nice fella I met at—”

“Keep it _down!_ ” snapped the robber who was currently patting down their fellow bank patrons. He was hindered by his evident reluctance to touch any of the women in any way that could be even remotely construed as improper; Peggy could have had a Howitzer stuffed down the front of her dress and he’d have been none the wiser. This was just embarrassing.

“You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re doing, do you?” Peggy asked, giving him a stern look. The nearest hostage, a portly, balding bank manager, stared at her in a way that was half-panicked, half-furious, but she ignored it. “Honestly. Have you even considered your exit? The police will have blocked off both the street and the alley by now. I do hope you’ve an associate on the outside.”

The man twitched in a way that meant she’d hit a nerve, then gaped at her. Poor idiot. The important thing, though, was that his hand was off of his gun; it was swinging by its shoulder strap, bumping awkwardly against his hip as he approached, followed by two of his associates. Peggy could feel as much as hear a mutter of consternation go through the rest of the crowd, but out of the corner of her eye, Rose had gone perfectly still, a vision of poised readiness in red polka-dots and a smart matching cap.

“If fact,” Peggy said, warming to her topic, “I’m quite sure that this is the first heist any of you have ever committed. Really, you ought to have considered doing just a bit of research. Or at least enlisting the assistance of someone who knew what they were doing.”

“Yeah?” asked the first robber, leaning into her face. His breath smelled like onions and stale cigarettes, and it was an effort not to wrinkle her nose. Beside her, unnoticed, Rose took a slow, deliberate step back. “And what’s a pretty, brainless little doll like you know about it anyway, huh? Maybe you oughta just shut up and hope we send you home to the mister in one piece, don’t you think?”

Peggy sighed.

“I do wish,” she said, “that you hadn’t been rude.”

And then she was moving with sudden brutal speed. Her fist caught his throat and he fell, choking; the rest of them converged upon her, but by then Rose was there, metal flashing in her hand. Peggy didn’t spare a moment to worry about her, just flipped the second man over her shoulder and yanked the gun out of his hands as he fell. To her right, there was a sudden choking noise and the sound of a body hitting the floor in a limp tangle of limbs.

The forth robber, the skinny boy she’d been observing earlier, stared at the two of them with wide, blinking eyes, then dropped his gun and fled. 

Peggy glanced back at Rose, who was standing over one of the felled robbers with one red pump resting on his upper chest. In her hand were a pair of knitting needles, stained red at the sharp ends, a tangled trail of yellow yarn dangling below.

“You stabbed him with a knitting needle?” Peggy asked out loud, as sirens began to converge outside. There was a sudden burst of shouting from the street; it sounded as though their erstwhile amateur robber had been apprehended. “I thought you had a gun.”

“It’s at my desk,” Rose said cheerfully, “I improvised.”

At her feet the robber, who was bleeding from what looked like a remarkably unpleasant stab wound near his armpit, made an outraged noise. Rose beamed down at him.

Peggy utterly gave up her struggle to keep a straight face.


End file.
